


sharp and steady, into the empty parts of me

by Catja



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Oral Sex, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Season/Series 05, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-04 05:14:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14585730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catja/pseuds/Catja
Summary: Day 248. Bellamy is a long way from trusting Echo, doubts he ever will, but there are some things he can still let her do.





	sharp and steady, into the empty parts of me

**Author's Note:**

> title from hozier. unbetaed, barely proofread.

The first time is just past the eight month mark. They’re in a good place, finally, with the Ark in what Raven calls ‘miraculously good shape,’ the algae farms operating forty percent better than necessary, and enough rooms cleaned out that no one _has_ to share anymore. None of them are even sharing walls, now that they’re starting to get sick of each other, though they’re all in the same sector to keep energy usage down.

Harper and Monty share a set of rooms near the algae farm, far enough from the other common spaces that no one needs to worry about sound carrying. Raven moved a bed into Earth Monitoring Station, which she’s mostly turned into her workroom, and Emori splits her time between there and wherever Murphy’s sleeping this week.

Bellamy’s in the most central room he could find that was in any kind of decent shape. As soon as he picked a spot, Echo chose one just across the hall. Raven likes to crack jokes about _Bellamy’s guard dog,_ but honestly, they don’t really interact much with each other. Echo doesn’t interact with anyone, much, especially not now that they’re past the first few frantic months. She’s always around, always willing to do what needs to be done, always there to help anyone who needs a hand, but that’s all. If Echo relaxes, she does so alone.

Bellamy has no room to judge, though, as he doesn’t relax either. They’re not in any immediate danger, but there’s always more to be done, and even with this newfound peace, everyone’s still looking to Bellamy to lead.

He’s let go of so many things from the Ground; if only he could have let this go, too.

It’s hard to lead when there’s hardly any leading to do, when the only thing that matters is not dying before Raven can figure out how to get them back home in one thousand, five hundred seventy-nine more days. He’s used to people looking to him to make decisions, to mediate, to fix all of their problems, but so little of what they’re dealing with here actually _matters_. As long as no one dies.

It’s impossible to lead alone, with no one for Bellamy to look to. 

Murphy and Emori go from drawn out fights to being sappy and inseparable at dizzying speeds, but all Bellamy has to do is make sure that the fallout doesn’t impact the rest of the group. Half the time, Raven’s mediating anyway. Monty’s too quiet, and Harper’s too loud, Jasper’s absence eating away at them both, but they’re good at taking care of each other. Raven’s doing the best of any of them, kept busy and stimulated, the most important of any of them, and Echo-

Echo’s harder than the others. They still need to learn how to fit together. 

Maybe now that things have settled a little, she’ll have a chance to figure that out. With everyone, not just Bellamy. If that’s something she’s interested in doing.

When Bellamy turns the corner on his way to his room, of _course_ Echo’s there, lurking outside her own doorway. It’s later than usual, for Bellamy to be heading to bed, but this was a particularly long day of not having enough to do, without anything really to wear him out. And now all Bellamy has to look forward to is laying in bed, not tired enough to sleep: his least favorite kind of night, the kind that leads to thinking too much and waking up somehow more exhausted, with nothing to look forward to tomorrow either. 

There’s nothing to look forward to for the next one thousand, five hundred seventy-eight tomorrows.

Bellamy closes his eyes against Echo’s steady gaze, those last few meters to his door. It doesn’t help; she’s so obviously there, posture as rigid as ever, face carefully composed. 

Just as he’s passing her, his door almost within reach, Echo calls his name, voice calm and measured as always, not giving anything away.

“What do you need?”

Echo scoffs. “Nothing.” She closes the distance between them again, but lets her arm fall back to her side. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Bellamy doesn’t see Echo roll her eyes, but he’s sure she does. “No, you aren’t.”

“I’m _fine_ -”

“Bellamy. We can all see that you’re stressed.” Her voice goes soft, one hand coming to rest against his chest, her long fingers just barely grazing the edge of his shirt. “Let me help you.”

“Not interested,” he says, gruff, finally shoving past her down the hallway and into his room. The door slides shut behind him with the familiar click.

She’s right, though; he’s stressed and frustrated and getting off would probably help. It’s not like he has anything else pressing to do. Most nights he just goes to their makeshift training space, goes a few rounds against the punching bag Harper made, but it’s less appealing tonight. 

Still, Bellamy dicks around on his tablet for a bit, reading a couple pages of the novel he’s been trying to get through, but he can’t get the suggestion out of his head. He can only ignore his arousal for so long until he needs to deal with it or force it away, and one of those sounds a hell of a lot better. 

So Bellamy falls back onto his bed, eyes shutting, and tries very hard not to think about anyone in particular as he shoves his pants down his thighs and wraps his hand around his dick.

He fails, of course, so he goes for a safer option, one that doesn’t tear him up so badly:

The last person he’d fucked was Bree, all those months ago, high on jobi nuts and the end of the world. She doesn’t remind him of anyone up here, slim and soft and so small against him, all loose and eager. It’d been sloppy and fun, grinding up against each other on the dance floor, kissing their way back to her room. 

Bellamy’s hand works faster, hips jerking up off the bed, trying to finish himself off before-

Bree had been just what he wanted then, uncomplicated and happy to go another round with him. He’d fucked her against the wall first, too wound up to wait a second longer before sinking into her. Her thighs had been so fragile in his hands, she’d been so easy to hold, but she could handle his frantic pounding. She’d loved it too, wanted it rough and fast. After, Bree pulled him properly into her bed, and she’d gotten herself off just rubbing her cunt against his hand before she’d bounced so good on his cock.

Even the first time, with Roma, she’d wanted it hard. _Fun_ , she’d said. Roma liked being in the middle, Bellamy’s hand on her cunt, Bree’s mouth on her tits. Even when they put Bellamy in the middle, one girl riding his face and the other his cock, Roma still had two sets of hands on her, still got kisses from Bree, sounding so fucking hot just out of sight. Once Roma was spent, Bree still wanted more, let Bellamy bend her over and take her, hands tight on her narrow hips.

And then she killed herself before the planet could, and Roma was slaughtered by a grounder barely two weeks after stepping foot on the ground, and practically every other girl he’d so much as _flirted with_ died, or was murdered, or . Or burned. 

He hasn’t been with anyone who’s still alive, except for Raven, and she's not exactly someone Bellamy can think of like this anymore. 

Bellamy’s hand falls away from his cock, like it usually does when he hits this string of thoughts, and he groans, indulging himself in a moment of frustration. He’ll just do push-ups until his body gives up and he passes out again, or run up and down the hallway until he can barely walk back to his bed, or maybe spar a while, if Harper or Echo can’t sleep either. 

He sits up, tugging his pants back up, and when he opens his eyes, Echo’s there.

“What the fuck.”

She pushes off the stretch of wall she’d been leaning against for fuck knows how long and crosses the room toward him. “I told you. You need help. I can help.” 

Echo sits on the bed beside him, her long legs folded beneath her, and presses his wrist into the mattress with surprising gentleness, soft enough that if Bellamy wanted to push back, he’d be able to.

He doesn’t.

She looks at him a moment, eyes cool as always. “You need to stop thinking.”

And when her mouth wraps around his cock, warm and wet and the best thing he’s felt in a long time, he finally does. 

She sucks hard just for a heartbeat, then licks lightly at the slit before mouthing down the side, testing out what Bellamy might like. It doesn’t take her long to work it out: sucking wetly, softly, at the few inches she can take easily in her mouth, tongue flicking just under the head, with one hand tight around the base, pressing almost too hard against his balls. The contrast drives him crazy; he can’t do it this way by himself, and Gina was the only one to-

Echo lets her teeth graze against the sensitive head of his cock just for a second, like she can hear his thoughts turning dark again, and Bellamy lets out a groan, mind going blissfully blank. It’s barely a minute later that he breathes out her name, hand tangling lightly in her hair in warning. She stays on him when he comes, swallows neatly, her long fingers stroking lightly along his length. When he finally pushes her away, she goes.

It’s funny, Bellamy thinks as he shoves his clothes mostly off and gets comfortably tangled in his pile of blankets. He absolutely doesn’t trust Echo, doesn’t think he’ll ever forgive her betrayal, can hardly bring himself to do anything but prefer he doesn’t lose anyone else he’s chosen to protect. But Bellamy has no trouble believing that she really did just want to help him, whatever her private, secret, Echo reasons might be.

“What do you need?” he asks again, voice softer than he means, curling toward her. “

But she stands up, rising up on her toes for just a second to stretch out her legs. “Nothing,” Echo says. “I’m fine.” Her mouth doesn’t quite smile, but it does tilt in a pleased sort of shape. 

Warm and sated and relaxed as Bellamy is, he accepts her words at face value. He can let her have that, at least. “I can owe you then,” he says. 

Echo makes a noncommittal sound, watching him get comfortable in his bed. “I owe you for a lot more.”

He waves a hand at her, dismissive, then tugs the blanket higher up his chest. Bellamy’s asleep by the time she slips back out of the room, but the next morning, day two hundred forty-nine, he wakes up actually feeling refreshed. It’s nice. He wouldn’t mind it happening again, probably. Maybe it will.

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by a tumblr post I saw a couple weeks ago about fuck buddies who eventually notice that they've been making love. so there might be more of this, probably depending on how inspired I am by canon, but no promises.


End file.
